I Have No Idea What You Did Last Summer
by DeadWizardGod
Summary: The morning after the night before is never good but it's even worse when the night before lasted four years. Plus, you have no idea what's been happening, demons trying to kill you and voices in your head. Oh well, another day in the life of a prophet.


Chuck blinks his eyes open, looking around the room. No, not the room, he is outside, lying in the middle of the road. He scrambles to his feet and out of the road, trying to get his bearings. Chuck looks down at himself, taking in the white shirt, grey dress pants and the freshly polished shoes. Running a hand through his hair, he finds it well brushed and neatly cut. Another hand on his face assures him his stubble is still intact. Whatever scrubbed him up left him with that at least.

Chuck turns in place, looking at the houses around him. His eyes widen slightly when he noticed the street name and the number of the house. That is his house. But it wasn't. He frowns, looking at the house, identical to his own bar the colouring, and extension and a new car in the driveway. He shakes his head, placing his hands in his pockets. He pauses, freezing in panic, before pulling the phone out of his pocket.

Sam and Dean!

He scrambles to punch in Dean's number, annoyed he has managed to forget their big showdown with the devil. He walks a little down the road, holding the phone to his ear and scratching his head. He listens to it ring for a few minutes before the hunter finally picks up the other end.

'Who is this?'

'Dean, it's Chuck.'

There's a pause, during which Chuck paces some more, passing his house then leaving again. Finally, Dean answers him. 'Chuck who?'

Chuck's eyebrows rise. He only spoke to Dean, like, two hours ago. Well, two hours before he passed out. 'Chuck Shurley, the prophet.'

'Chuck! Jesus Christ.' Dean voice raises slightly and Chuck pulls away from the receiver. 'Where have you been?'

'I dunno, I passed out.' Chuck shakes his head, reminding himself there are more important things to talk about. 'Forget that, how did it go?'

'How did what go?'

'You big showdown with the devil.' Chuck says, eyes bugging out. 'Did you pop Lucifer back in the cage or not?'

Dean pauses again, talking to someone on the other end. When he comes back, he doesn't answer Chuck's question. 'How long has it been since we last talked?'

Chuck sighs, wondering how that could possibly matter. 'I dunno. I was out for a while so, maybe, 10 hours. 12, tops.'

Dean takes a deep breath. 'Chuck it's been four years since we popped Lucifer back in the cage.'

There's a silence, a long, drawn out silence while Chuck next few words come out in a stutter. 'F-f-four years? D-Dean, don't mess with me.'

'I'm not, man. Now, where are you, Sam and me will come pick you up.' Dean's voice is short, to the point and leaves no room for doubt. It's been four years since Chuck was conscious. Four. Years. He has no idea what he could've missed, what he might have done during that time.

Chuck runs a hand down his face. 'I'm outside my house, I wait for yo-'

'No!' Dean shouts down the line, making the prophet jump. 'Chuck, somebody else probably owns that house now. Go to the local diner, buy some food, wait there. We'll be a couple hours. Just don't go into that house.'

Chuck nods before he realises Dean can't see him. 'Okay, local diner. You remember where that is, right?'

'I'll find it. See you, Chuck.'

'See you.' He replies but the hunter has already hung up. He rubs his eyes, wondering what could have happened for him to miss four years. Sighing, he makes his way towards the diner.

* * *

Chuck walks into the diner, recognising everyone in the room. He wonders if any of them remember him, if they cared when he just disappeared. It doesn't seem like the Winchesters did. He sits down at the bar, waiting to be served. The waitress doesn't look at him as she takes his order.

'A slice of your best pie, please. And a coffee, the strongest you've got.'

As he hands over the money, the waitress finally looks up at him. Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops as she looks him up and down. He recognises her as Sara, the woman who used to serve him his coffee when he was in the diner, coming down from a hangover. He raises an eyebrow slightly.

'You alright, Sara?'

'Chuck Shurley, is that you?' She says, cutting through all the chatter in the diner. All the patrons go silent, turning to look at Chuck. A few gasp and one woman faints. 'We thought you were dead.'

She grabs his shoulders, pulling him forward into a bone shattering hug. Chuck patted her back gingerly, his face falling in shock. 'What do you mean? Why did you think I was dead?'

Sara holds him at arms length, shaking her head, eyes brimming with tears. 'Your house exploded, Chuck. The whole place was rubble.'

He pulls out of her grip, wringing his hands. 'No, no, no. I just saw it, it was-'

'They rebuilt it last year.' Chuck turns meeting the eyes of a tall man, eyebrows disappearing into his hair lines. Ben, he recalls, the electrician who fixed his computer every time he flung it across the room. He could never figure how he managed to do that so easily.

Sara passes him the money back. 'Our treat, Chuck. On the house.'

Ben nods, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 'Sit down mate, you look terrible. What happened to you?'

Chuck shakes his head, trying to clear the fog from his memories. 'I have no idea.'

* * *

When Sam and Dean finally show up, three hours later, the prophet is surrounded but townsfolk, filling him in on the last four years and trying to jog his memory. Chuck finds he gets a strange sense of satisfaction when they talk about 'Richard Roman Enterprises' going down but his gut twists when he hears of the meteor shower a few weeks ago. He can't explain it, he doesn't know what is happening, he just knows he doesn't know anything.

When Sam and Dean turn up, he bundles out of the diner booth to pull Sam into a hug. The taller Winchester seems shocked and Chuck himself isn't completely sure why he's doing it but it seems like the right thing to do. He's holding Sam close, making sure he's real and not in pain, making sure everything bad has gone now. Before he knows what is happening, he has pulled Dean into a hug as well. Wanting to throw away the nightmares and stop al the hurt Dean has built up behind his eyes. He doesn't know where these thoughts come from, they are just egging him on.

Ben is behind him, ready to step in, if need be. 'You alright Chuck?' He says when the smaller man finally pulls away. Dean seems to be trying very hard not to shove him away. Chuck rolls his eyes at that- why does he roll his eyes? Forgetting his own confusing actions, he turns back to face Ben. 'You know these people?'

He nods, smiling. 'These are friends of mine. From before the, ah, explosion.' The townsfolk nod sinking back a bit in their seats.

'You going with them?' Sara asks, leaning over the counter.

Chuck looks at the Winchesters once, gets a nod from both of them, before nodding at Sara. She sighs, fishing around for something under the counter.

'Here, take this.' She's holding out a whole pie, fresh from the oven. Dean's eyes widen when he sees it.

'What? No, Sara-'

'I want you to take it. If you never come back, just leave with something to remember me by.' She pulls him forward into a hug again and Chuck is sure they weren't this good friends before. But now everyone is hugging him, everyone in the diner, like they just want to be close to him, like they have to be sure he exists before he disappears.

He finally makes it out of the diner, with one last pat on the back from Ben. He passes the pie over to Dean without a word, knowing the hunter will find some way of eating it all. Wait, did Dean every actually tell him he liked pie?

'Sorry we're a bit late, man.' Sam says, walking towards the Impala. Chuck thinks of the last pages he wrote before he blacked out. He can't even remember finishing the book. 'We had someone else to pick up along the way.'

Chuck slips into the backseat, behind Dean because the seat behind Sam is already taken. Somebody, he can't tell who because of the coat pulled up over their face, is huddled in the corner, shivering in their sleep. Chuck wants to ask, has a burning in his chest that tells him he had to ask but one look from the hunters in the front seat shuts him up, curling into a ball next to other guy. His head screams at him for a second, his whole body telling him to protest but he can't because he doesn't know why.

He doesn't know anything at the moment.

* * *

It's a good hour later when the other guy stirs from his sleep next to Chuck. He rubs his eyes as he pushes the coat off himself, allowing Chuck to get his first good look at him. His hair is sticking up in a dozen directions, his eyes wide with fear when he doesn't straight away know the person looking at him. His entire body is covered the smallest of scrapes; cuts, bruises, scars and they make Chuck's chest ache. The man's clothes, ripped and torn, hang off him and Chuck wonders how long it's been since he ate.

_Castiel. What have you done?_

Chuck's head twists at the voice, one he half recognises. It's not coming from anyone in the car and the other man's head tilts when he starts looking around for the source. Shaking his head, ignoring invisible voices, he turns back to the man, Castiel. He recognises him now, past all the fear and injury, it's still the stoic angel that showed up at his house to die. Chuck's moving forward to pull him into a hug before he can even think about it.

This hug is different to the ones he gave the Winchesters. Those hugs were questions; are you alright, are you hurt, what did Hell and Purgatory do you? But this is meant to be a comfort, telling Cas to lean on him, stop being strong, it's alright, it'll be alright, I'm here, it's me.

Castiel struggles for a few seconds before collapsing into the prophet's embrace. Chuck's eyes narrow, wondering if the Winchesters offered any comfort when they found the angel in this state. Judging by the looks of guilt in their eyes and the sobs that are racking Castiel's body, he doubts it.

He pulls away slowly, holding Castiel's shoulders so he doesn't feel abandoned. Moving his hands up to his face, he wiped the falling tears away with his thumbs. He's slightly scaring himself, not knowing where this desire, this need, to protect the angel has come from. But he can't ignore it, the pressure on his chest to make sure Castiel is okay. He places one hand back on Cas' shoulder, the way he did all those years ago when Raphael was coming.

_What happened to you?_

He repeats the voice's words out load, watching Castiel flinch. He raises an eyebrow, ready to repeat the question, gentler this time when his eyes seem to adjust and he spots something. Well, several something's. He sees Dean's grip on the steering wheel, sees Sam's worried glance back at him and sees, with his new adjusted gaze, the smallest, dullest bit of Grace, tucked into the back of Castiel's now-human soul. The Grace was once so bright and huge that Chuck hadn't been able to look at it directly.

_No!_

Outside the car, lightening flashes and rain begins to fall.

_Not right! How dare they!_

'Stop the car.' He whispers.

'What?' Sam said, turning around in his seat.

'I said stop the car!' He practically shouts, his voice reverberating with a strange echo. The car skids to a stop, Castiel falling off his seat. Chuck doesn't know if Dean stopped due to shock or if he was genuinely doing as the prophet said.

_Get him out of their sight!_

Chuck storms out the car, listening to the thunder boom with his every step. Castiel scrambles after him, leaving the warmth of the car for the likely first person to show him some affection since he Fell. Chuck wraps an arm around the ex-angel's shoulders, trying to shelter him from the cold, despite Cas having a coat and Chuck not. The prophet steers the taller man down a beaten track, turning back only once to gesture for the Winchesters to follow.

His head hurts.

* * *

Chuck and Castiel have found an abandoned house by the time the Winchesters actually follow them in the Impala. Chuck has bundled the ex-angel up in blankets, having found some sweatpants and a t-shirt upstairs to fit the man. The prophet himself hasn't changed but has made food, finding the ingredients for burgers in the kitchen.

'So, you want to tell us what that was about?' Dean says, taking his plate from Chuck. The portions are smaller than Castiel's but, watching the way the angel ploughs through the food, the older hunter is sure he'll probably end up giving some food to his friend. Sam is currently talking to Cas on the sofa while Chuck an Dean sit at the table.

Chuck shrugs, running a hand down his face. 'Would you believe "I don't know"? My head was on fire and I had to get out of there.'

'And Cas? Since when are you buddy with him?'

Chuck ignores the twinge of jealousy in Dean's voice. 'Again, no idea. Just know I'm not happy about what's happened to his Grace or the way you two are treating him.'

'What do you mean?' Dean says, raising an eyebrow.

'He hasn't eaten in weeks, he's barely slept and he looks like he's been to Hell and back. But, somehow, I don't think you've offered him much comfort from all that.'

He fixes Dean with a stare and the hunter drops his head. Looking at the floor, Dean's eyes open suddenly. He open his mouth to say something but is cut off by Sam sitting down on Chuck's other side.

'Cas is still hungry. I gave him my food but he'll probably eat all of that.'

'I'll make some more in a bit.' Chuck sighs. 'That's another thing I don't know, where I learned to cook. I've never cooked in my life, you saw my house. It was tidier after Raphael visited.'

Sam chuckles under his breath but shakes his head slightly. Turning his brother, he nudges the older hunter. 'Do you remember seeing a house on this route?'

Dean shakes his head. 'Not really. I'm sure I checked as well, in case we needed a place to stay.'

Cas looks over the back of the sofa at them and Chuck walks forward, handing the taller man the rest of his food and sitting down on the chair next to him. The Winchesters follow, sitting either side of the ex-angel.

'Think something weird is going on?' Sam says, bringing them back to the subject.

'I dunno. If there is, I'm not sure it's bad.' Dean replies, looking over Castiel's head. The angel seems so much smaller with his Grace not shining through him. 'I mean, think about it. There's a wardrobe filled with clothes to fit Cas perfectly and the kitchen got the ingredients for his favourite food, in fact, the only food we know he likes. Whoever's rigged this up, seems to be looking out for you, buddy.'

He directs this last bit to Cas, placing his half-full plate on top of Cas' empty one. The angel glances at him once before tucking in,

Chuck shakes his head, scratching at his hairline. Something tells him there's nothing wrong but he doubts Sam and Dean will listen to him. He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes, ignoring the other three talking about possible dangers from staying here.

He ignores the voice in his head as well.

* * *

Chuck is woken to loud shouts. He bolts out of his chair, head whipping from side to side, eyes not yet used to the colour filled real world, having just been living a black and white vision.

_Danger!_

'Thanks.' He mutters under his breath as he comes face to face with the barrel of the gun. His face doesn't move but his eyes flicker to the sofa, to Sam, Cas and Dean. They all have gun's pointed at their heads, the gunmen's eyes onyx blank. A redhead, donned with a leather jacket, smirks at him from across the room, her eyes flashing dark once before returning to normal.

'You must be the prophet Chuck.'

'Depends who's asking.' He tries smirking but gets the end of a rifle in the stomach.

_That was stupid._

_Shut up!_ He hisses at the voice inside his mind, watching the redhead out if the corner of his eye.

'My name is Abaddon, Queen of Hell.' She grins again, baring her teeth in a way that is probably meant to be scaring. Chuck would be scared, should be scared, but part of his brain is refusing to let him be so.

'I thought Lucifer was King of Hell.'

Abaddon hissed, eyes flashing. 'Lucifer is rotting in the cage, thanks to you.'

_Let me handle this._

Chuck raises an eyebrow, glancing at the sofa again. The other three are tied up now, the guns no longer pointed at them. Chuck's eyes scan the room, taking in eight others besides Abaddon and the demon leaning over him. 'I don't understand how it's my fault.'

The demon next to him laughs, leaning in closely. 'You told the Winchesters where to find Lucifer. You helped them put him in the cage. You-'

Whatever else Chuck had done, the demon didn't get to finish. Chuck launched himself off the chair, ploughing the demon over. The demon tries to spin them over, tries to hit the smaller man but Chuck simply places a hand to the demon's forehead. A bright light shines out of his eyes as Chuck touches him, and he slumps when the prophet stands. The three others with guns raise them but Chuck just raises an eyebrow and clicks his fingers, the demons disappearing in a puff of smoke.

The other five run at him and he turns, his hands clenching into fists. He dodges the first two, letting them run pass him. He punches the third in the middle of forehead before throwing the last two into a wall and knocking all three out. He turns to meet the remaining two, raising his hands to their foreheads as they try to rush him. He pulls them to the ground as they struggle. Their eyes, like the demon with the rifle's, shine with a bright light before they slump to the ground. Chuck turns his head looking for the Queen of Hell.

Something grabs his collar, pulling him back and into the wall. Abaddon lifts him up by the throat, glaring at him. There is a small knife pressing into his stomach. It should hurt, he knows that but either he's blocking it out or he has a higher pain threshold than he though. 'How are you doing that?'

Chuck smirks, ignoring the question. The knife twists in his stomach but he still feels nothing. 'Go to Hell and rot there.'

He grabs her arms, watching the light spill from her eyes and mouth, by the time the light has faded, the demons are gone, even the Queen. Chuck drops to his feet, swaying slightly.

'Chuck.' He looks up at Sam, the ropes previously holding him gone. 'How did you do that?'

Chuck blinks once, the haze on his mind disappearing. He begins to feel pain in his side and it starts to bleed. 'I have no idea.'

His legs give way under him and he collapses.

* * *

_You need to come back-_

_The Fall messed you up a bit-_

_Heaven's locked-_

_We've lost Adam-_

_You have to remember-_

_I can't find Sam-_

_You can't keep running-_

_You know who you are-_

_Father-_

_Please-_

_Father-_

_Wake up, Charles. I'll visit you soon. I'm coming for you._

* * *

Chuck wakes with a start, feeling a pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He struggled for a few seconds before he realised it was Sam pressing him down. He slumped back into the sofa, resting his head against the armrest. Cas and Dean are stood to the side, the ex-angel poking his head out from behind the hunter's arm. He looks down at his stomach, noticing he has no wound and his shirt has no rip or stain. he wonders for a second if the knife even happened. Then he sees it, the small dagger, still covered in his blood and sighs.

'Someone's coming.' Chuck says, eyes flickering between the other three. 'I don't know who but someone is coming. For me.'

The Winchesters get moving straight away. Dean takes Cas to set up some warding sigils while Sam salts all the doors and windows. Chuck stays staring at the ceiling. He listens to the three of them running around, setting up different precautions at every possible entrance.

'You know none of that will work right?'

Chuck scrambles to a seated position, watching the newcomer with wide eyes. Chuck's first thought is of a skeleton but the old man just seems incredibly thin. He raises an eyebrow as the prophet tries to force himself further into the corner of the sofa, yelling for the other three. Chuck stills at the motion, his brain telling him he has nothing to worry about. He relaxes into the cushions, watching the other man with slightly narrowed eyes and a matching smirking.

'It might have done, if it was anyone but you.'

The words tumble out of his mouth even if he doesn't really know what they mean. The older man flashes him a smirk, both of them turning as one to watch Dean, Sam and Cas run into the room. They skid to a stop, staring at the other man.

'Death?' Sam says, eyes widening. His eyes go to the bag at Death's feet, a flash of recognition filling his eyes.

'Sam, Dean, Castiel. Have a seat.' Death looks at Chuck, the prophet tilting his head slightly. Another sofa appears behind them, knocking them off their feet.

Dean looks between the two of them. 'What the hell is going o-'

'Not now, Dean.' Chuck says, trying to figure out why this is happening. Why he knows what to do, what to say. It doesn't help that his head feels like it's bursting. 'The adults need to talk.'

_Ignore them. Talk to Death_

The Horseman turns, holding up his bag. 'Do you remember this?'

Chuck smiles again, but shakes his head. 'It's hazy, I have to admit. I remember something but I can't quite recall what it is. I know it's important.'

Death nods. 'It's been a while since I needed to talk to you in these forms. After that little brat got shoved back in his cage-'

'Careful.' Chuck warns for an unknown reason.

'-after that little darling got unfairly put in his pen, I was finally able to visit. Gave you a little gift.' He hands the bag over, Chuck taking it with both hands. The Horseman turns to face the other three, smiling slightly. 'You see, I was charged with several jobs before I was locked away. Helping start the apocalypse, watching out for the prophets, holding on to the Grace of God.'

'The Grace of God?' Dean says, looking across at Cas.

'Of course.' Death says. 'Do you think my self-righteous relative was keeping out of the fighting by choice? He couldn't remember anything, he had no abilities. Even when I gave them back he was still trapped within the role he had to play.'

There is silence for a few seconds before the prophet sighs, holding up the unopened bag. 'What will happen when I open this?'

Death shrugs. 'That's for you to remember. I'll leave you with the bag, let you make your own decision.'

He stands, brushing imaginary dust off his suit. Chuck stands, holding a hand out to shake. Death grips his hand briefly before pulling him into a firm hug. The other three's eyebrows raise, their mouths dropping slightly.

'Goodbye, old friend.' Death smiles, pulling back to hold Chuck at arms length.

'I'll see you soon, little brother.' Chuck grins back, the words rolling off his tongue.

'I still say I'm older.'

Chuck rolls his eyes as the Horseman disappears in puff of black smoke. Oh well, places to be, people to kill. There's a moment of silence as Chuck blinks, the haze once again beginning to fade from his brain.

Cas, having been silent the whole time Chuck had been with him, finally managed to speak up. 'What the hell just happened?'

* * *

The four of them sit around the table, watching the bag as if expecting it to do something. Dean and Sam are opposite each other, both leaning forward, both mirroring their brother. Cas is leant back in his seat, watching the bag from a distance. Chuck has his heads in his hands, trying to make sense of what is going on.

'You called him your brother.' Sam says eventually, rousing Chuck from his thoughts.

'I don't know why, before you ask.'

'There has to be some reason. I mean, did you grow up around any disasters, did you meet him before now, do you have a younger brother?'

'No!' Chuck says, slumping backwards into his chair. 'I had a perfectly normal life, Sam, I'd think I know if I met Death at some point. I was raised in...in...my parents are...my parents...my siblings...do I have siblings?'

His head whips up, looking around at the others. They are leaning forward slightly, looking concerned. Chuck shakes his head, running his hands through his hair, trying to remember something, anything about his life. Chuck Shurley, writer from Kripke's Hollow. That's it that's all he knows.

'I-I-I can't remember anything.' He says finally, gulping slightly. 'Nothing, not my childhood, not my family. I don't even know how old I am.' He pushes put of his chair, beginning to pace. 'How can I not remember anything? Anything!' He turns, pointing a figure at Castiel. He advances on the ex-angel, jabbing his finger into the man's chest. 'This is your fault. You and your stupid family. First you put bloody visions in my dreams, then you _abduct_ me, steal my memories of the last four years. Now, you've taken my childhood. _Why!_ What did I do to you?! Why do I deserve this?!'

Dean grabs Chuck's arms, pulling him around and away from Castiel, the trench coat wearer shaking in his seat. The older Winchester shoves Chuck back into his seat. 'Calm down, okay. It's not his fault.'

'What's the first you remember?' Sam says, as Dean sits down to Castiel, trying to calm him down. 'Your earliest memory.'

Chuck shrugs again. 'I don't know. The day you came to my house? Yeah, that's it. My first memory is you two knocking on my door.'

He sighs, resting his chin on the table. Raising his eyes, he looks at the bag. Black and big enough to hold anything, he's desperate to open it but terrified to do so. He tries to remember, tries to think about the bag and what it could contain. He's sure, if he prayed, he might get an angel who can answer his questions but he doesn't what to talk to any angels right now. The feeling of disappointment in his stomach is too much for him to bear.

_Open it. But get them out first._

He lifts his head, looking to the ceiling. That the voice, so familiar, seems to be the right person to ask for help. _What will happen? Please, I need your help._

_You do realise you're praying right? I could be an angel. Thought you didn't like angels._

Chuck rolls his eyes. _I'll apologise to Cas. Now please, help me._

_Open the bag and you get your memories back. Not your childhood, not your family because, honestly, you didn't have those and I'm sorry about that. But you will remember. You did remember, these last four years but then Heaven Fell and so did you. So open the bag. But get the others out first or it will all be a waste._

'Chuck? You alright?' Sam says, placing a hand on the prophet's shoulder.

Chuck takes a breath before looking up and the others. They all look at him ith raised eyebrows. 'Get out. All of you, go away.'

'What?' Dean mutters, shaking his head. 'Chuck, what-'

'I said get out!' He shouts this, his voice echoing throughout the house. He sees the echo hitting Sam, Dean and Cas, causing them all to still for half a second. Then the three of them start to move, leaving Chuck alone. He waits until he hears the Impala start pull away before he turns to the bag.

_One last question._ He thinks, raising his eyes to the ceiling. _Who are you?_

There is a small laugh inside before he gets a reply. _I've got many names. But, most simply, I'm you, Charles. Well, sort of._

Chuck laughs, the same laugh he just heard and reaches for the bag. 'Here goes nothing.'

* * *

Dean slams the brakes and the three people in the car turn, looking back at the bright light filling the night sky. They shake their heads, the order they received finally fading from their brains.

'What just happened?'

'Is Chuck okay?'

'I don't know.'

The words overlap as they all try to talk at once. Eventually, they quieten, knowing there is nothing they can do now. Dean starts driving away again, heading for the bunker. Behind them, a house constructed simply to care for one of them has burnt to the ground, having exploded when a small black bag was opened.

* * *

Several weeks later, in the Men of Letter's bunker, someone moves silently through the rooms. The shadow visits Castiel first, thrashing up in bed, having a nightmare. He places a hand on the ex-angels head, calming him down.

'I'm sorry, my son, for what has happened to you. I'm sorry for the wars you had to face and the many times you died or Fell. I tried to reverse it but every time I did, you just threw yourself back into the war. I can't go back and stop it from ever happening but I can try to make it better. I'm sending some of your siblings and friends towards you and I'm healing you. You will get your Grace back but I beg you to keep your humanity. Stay with the Winchesters, help them hunt. They will need your help, even if they do not admit it.'

The shadow moves on but not before rearranging the covers around Castiel and planting a kiss on the angel's brow. He leaves the room, heading down the corridor to stand over the older Winchester.

'I'm sorry, Dean, for everything. I know I foretold it but I didn't mean for you to actually get hurt. There's a reason I fell as a prophet. I always see what will happen but I can't always control it. Most of the time I just pick up the pieces afterwards. I hoped the seals would never need breaking, that Lucifer would see the error of his ways. I wanted you and your family to be happy, for your mother to live. I didn't want you to go to Hell or Purgatory. So I am sorry, truly. Trust me, I don't say that a lot. You and Sam will live to a very old age, I promise you that. There are many people coming to protect you and to be protected by you, including a few archangels. Don't hurt my sons, Dean, hear them out first. I won't be happy if I find you've shot my eldest, when they've only been out of the Cage a month.'

He waves a hand, ridding Dean of the worst of his memories of Hell. Turning and leaving the room, he clicks his fingers, disappearing the alcohol on the edge of Dean's bed. The shadow wonders into Sam's room, leaning against the door frame.

'Hello, Sam.' He smiles, sitting on the edge of his bed. Sam doesn't stir. 'I've already apologised to your brother but I suppose I should apologise to you, perhaps more. I can't beg for your forgiveness Sam, there's too much pride on me for that, but I can try to make things better. There's a few things I need to give you Sam. I'm sending you family, friends and a few of my children for your protection. I know you've always wanted a family so that's exactly what I'm giving you. I'm also fixing your memories of the Cage. There's a few things you've got wrong. Lucifer was outraged when he realise you thought he tortured you. He was just as badly hurt in the Cage, you know. It was designed to be his punishment, after all. Oh and tell young Kevin he can go home, if he wants. I'll protect him, and his mother.'

The shadow blinks, disappearing from the bedrooms and reappearing down below in the basement. Well, dungeon. The demon sits there, pressed against the edge of the devil's trap.

'Hello.' The former king of Hell smirks. 'What can I do for you?'

'Actually.' He smiles. 'I'm going to help you. Your demonity is leaving you, as you know, so I'm just going to get rid of it. You will be human, for this lifetime. I'd like you to help the Winchesters but you don't have to.'

'Then what.' Crowley says, standing to face the other man. 'What happens when this lifetime runs out?'

The shadow smiles, like a father proud of his child. 'You go to Hell. Not to be tortured, not to be a demon but to be King. Again.'

'Why?'

'Because I like Hell under your rule. Organisation and order is much better than the chaos and destruction Abaddon brings. So, what do you think?'

Crowley smirks. 'I like it. But, one last question. Who are you?'

The shadow smirks, matching the former demon. 'I have many names. Father, Yahweh, God.' He smiles, heading toward the door. 'You can call me Chuck.'

Chuck Shurley vanishes from the bunker with a flutter of wings.

* * *

Chuck stands outside the Gates of Heaven, locked by his Scribe. He rolls his eyes, remembering his son as a child. He looks down towards Earth, focusing on the Winchester's bunker. He sees Cas flying around the room, followed closely by Balthazar, Samandiriel and Gabriel while Anna and the demon Meg sit and laugh at them. Crowley is next to them, talking to Bobby, Ellen, John and Mary. Kevin Tran is introducing his mother to everyone, glaring at Crowley every so often. Sam is sat with Lucifer and Michael, trying to shot Dean from shooting them. Adam, Jo, Charlie and Ash sit off to the side, getting stories of Purgatory from Benny and Madison. Lisa Braeden and Jessica Moore are in the kitchen, baking some food with the help of Ben and Jesse.

Chuck smiles at the scene. He hopes the Winchesters are happy with his gifts, hopes they can learn to live with such a large family. Maybe he will join them for dinner, take his little brother along. For now he was some work to do.

'I was wrong, you know.' Said brother mutters, adjusting his tie. Death might not really be his brother but they have claimed to be related for so long and it's not like anyone can disagree.

'About what?' Chuck says.

'Lucifer isn't your most bratty child.'

Chuck laughs, turning back toward the Gates. There might be some problems but, for now, life is on the right track and he can smooth out any bumps in the road.

The Lord Chuck looks down on the changes he has made. He looks down on his new world and thinks it good.


End file.
